


Unwilling Guardian Angel

by Kanako_Hime



Category: Zorro (TV 1990), Zorro - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Multi, Self-Insert, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-02-14 14:31:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2195325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanako_Hime/pseuds/Kanako_Hime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A modern girl is sent back to 19th century Los Angeles, to prevent the death of Zorro and the oppression of the pueblo at the hands of the twisted Alcalde, Luis Ramon. But what difference can one girl make - without affecting the future? Takes place during series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

No one knows exactly when the amulet was made. It was rumoured to have special powers that only a select few could unlock. Maybe the rumours were true, maybe not. The amulet's appearance was enough to spur the rumours: it was a dark, diamond-shaped flat stone that hung from a blue beaded chain. Suspended perfectly in the centre was two blue stones, like upside-down diamonds.

The night that the pueblo of Los Angeles came under attack, a small girl was wearing it. When she was struck down, the clasp broke and the amulet clattered to a stop under the statue of Mary in the church. Her heartbroken father had placed the amulet in Mary's outstretched hands in hopes that God would have mercy on his daughter's soul. He lived only long enough to see Zorro die and his lifeless body being carried away. The amulet was retrieved by a boy who had seen the curious object glinting. Eventually, he flung the object into a river and it floated away. Los Angeles gradually returned to normal, though shaken. No one but a select few even remembered the amulet.

It was washed out to sea. It was swallowed by a fish, then carried on a ship when the fish was gutted and eaten. The sailor who found it held onto it as a gift for his daughter once it was cleaned. The daughter wore it for many years and it became a family heirloom. Six generations later, the spoiled brat of a daughter said she "didn't want this old thing" and threw it away. Someone else found it and sold it at a pawn shop. The amulet disappeared mysteriously overnight. Nothing else went missing.

It was strange then…if anyone would have looked closely at the amulet, they would have seen it glowing slightly.

Many more years passed and the amulet had circled the globe three times before it finally came to rest in a church. At first, it was an object of fascination amongst the community, but it was put away in a drawer to keep it safe during renovations. Gradually it was forgotten again. The curator of the church came across it one day when they were doing the spring cleaning. Everything in the dusty storage room was emptied out and sorted through. He held the sparkling amulet up to the light. Then, he remembered that it was his granddaughter's birthday. She was more than happy to keep it and promised to take good care of it. The clasp, which had been broken, was easily mended. It struck her as odd that she couldn't get it off after that, but she didn't mind. She could have sworn that the stone sometimes glowed, but she chalked it up to her imagination.

Then, the dreams started…

_A young woman dressed in old-fashioned clothes serving bowls of stew in a tavern…a bumbling, chubby sergeant with a heart of gold and a big mouth…a well-dressed young man playing the piano…another young man dressed in black silk and masked as he wielded a blade of polished steel…_

The girl never revealed the dreams to anyone, not even her grandfather. The community thought she was strange enough as it was. Her patience with the "real world" was very limited and it was hard for her to get good grades in school. After a week of bizarre dreams and nights punctuated with toying with the idea that she'd finally lost it, the inevitable finally happened.

She was working at the church late one night, humming songs under her breath. Her favourite book, Jane Eyre, was resting on a nearby pew, her rucksack and jacket beside it. The amulet began to glow again and Ariella held up the small pendant and shook it. She thought it was a trick of the light. Her eyes narrowed.

_God…I must be pretty tired...I'm starting to see things_.

The door creaked open. Ariella looked up and immediately felt uneasy. A man in baggy, ripped jeans and a dirty sweatshirt walked towards her. His cap was pulled down so she couldn't see his eyes. The already dim lighting made it nearly impossible to see past the shadows that his hat cast on his face.

"Can I help you?" Ariella asked, straightening up. She'd been polishing the wood on the pews. "Father Matthew's not here," she continued, "but I can get my grandfather if it's important."

"I'm not looking for the priest," the stranger replied in a silky-smooth voice. Ariella wondered how that voice could come out of such a rough-looking human being. Dark stubble from an unshaven beard decorated his jaw-line. His skin looked like paper, white and crumpled.

"Who are you looking for?"

"You."

He inclined his head in a bow. Now, she was really confused.

"You are Ariella Hamilton, aren't you?"

"Yes."

She wished she'd thought to lock the door. If something happened to her, no one would be the wiser until morning. She was supposed to be staying at a friend's tonight, but she'd cancelled, deciding to stay at home until her parents came back the next day.

"I have a message for you."

"Erm…"

_Who is this nut job?_

The man pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and read it out loud.

"The power of love transcends time. Love God and thy neighbour, the rest is divine."

" **What?** "

She stared at him.

"That's what it says. If you don't believe me, look right here."

"What do you want with me?" she demanded, her hand slipping onto the broom handle. The flimsy plastic might not do much damage, but it might slow him down.

"Your amulet, girl! You didn't think that getting it was an accident, did you?"

"Of course it wasn't an accident," she snapped, "it was a gift!"

The man grinned, as if enjoying a joke she didn't understand.

"Of course it was a gift," he answered, "from above."

Ariella wanted to smack her forehead.

"Don't worry that pretty red head of yours," he said, still smiling, "you'll figure it out soon enough."

"Stop talking in circles and just  **tell**  me!" Ariella demanded, pissed.

"I'd rather show you."

Before she could object, he seized her arm. The amulet flashed so brightly that it looked as though there had been a lightning strike inside it. The world suddenly blurred around her and went black.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ugh…" Ariella groaned, raising a hand to her head. She knew there was such a thing as motion sickness, but she'd never suffered from it before. Weird.

As she looked around, there was only one conclusion she could come to. There were no paved roads, only dust. The houses, the lanterns instead of street lights, the row of horses tethered a few feet from them. Unless her escort was playing a very big joke on her...Turning to face him, she gave him a look and said, "Explain."

"I am not playing a trick on you. What you see before you is Los Angeles, California. It is the year eighteen-twenty. Look around you…if this is a trick, it's a very well-staged one beyond my means."

She shook her head.

"This can't be real."

"Oh, but it is."

"And just who the hell are you, anyway? You come into churches in the dead of night unannounced and you talk in circles!"

Her escort only grinned again. She also noticed that his clothing had changed into a monk's robe, and his face was concealed by the hood.

"How did you do that?" she asked, shocked, glancing down and finding her own clothing had changed.

"The same way I did everything else," he answered cheerfully, "but it's rather complicated. A human could  _never_  understand."

"A human? Does that mean you  _aren't_  human?"

He chuckled.

"You'll understand later. Now, come on. You'll need a place to sleep, food, and a means to support yourself while I'm away. There's also that other little matter…but I won't start on that for now. First things first."

He motioned for Ariella to follow him around the side of a building, and pushed open a door, nearly scaring the life out of a woman who was chopping a bowl of vegetables.

"Who are you?" she demanded, slamming the knife she had been holding down.

"It is me, Señorita," the man beside Ariella said calmly. Apparently, the woman knew him well enough by his voice that he didn't need to tell her his name.

"And the girl?" she asked suspiciously, eyeing Ariella with dark eyes.

"She is under my protection."

The woman straightened, nodding her head intently.

"I promise you that she will work hard and well. If she doesn't, I will take her somewhere else and pay off her debts. She is to be watched closely around the soldiers and if they violate her, so help me, I will know. No-one but her is to touch her satchel without permission."

Ariella suddenly realized that he held her backpack from the church. What in the…? She was sure he hadn't been holding  _that_  a minute ago, either.

"How-?" she started to ask, but his outstretched hand cut her off.

"There will be time for your questions later. In the meantime, follow this woman. She will show you to your quarters for the time being."

"You're leaving me?" Ariella asked, surprised and a little nervous.

"Only for a short time. You have to trust me."

She didn't, but she didn't let him know that. She followed the strange woman through a bustling room that smelled like food and wax, and up two flights of stairs.

"I hope you  _are_  a good worker," the woman muttered as she mounted the stairs, "The Señor doesn't just hand out compliments."

She did not talk to Ariella for the rest of the trek upstairs.

"Here," she said, gesturing to a tiny room. There was a small window, a bed with a weird bowl thing under it, and a stand with a patterned jug and dish.

"Thanks," Ariella answered. Striding across the room, the woman lit a candle that sat snugly in its holder, then turned away and opened the window. She smiled, and went to the door, stopping as she was about to close it.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Ariella Hamilton," she mumbled.

"Ariella," she murmured, trying it out, "A lovely name. I am Victoria Escalante. Now sleep. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she whispered as the door closed quietly.


	3. Chapter 3

_Beautiful, see the cloud, the cloud appear. Beautiful, see the rain, the rain draw near…_

The words of Grandmère Catherine's favourite song floated through Ariella's mind as she scrubbed pots the next day. Her grandparents made her feel warm and safe and happy.

_Who spoke? The little corn ear, high on top of the stalk…_

"Hey, Señorita!"

Wincing at the loud voice out in the bar, Ariella dropped the pot she had been scrubbed and darted out, wiping her hands on a hastily-grabbed cloth as she stood behind the bar.

"I'm so sorry Señor," she said apologetically, glancing up, "I was just-"

She froze. Her mysterious friend was leaning on the other side of the bar.

"How are you, Señorita?" he asked coolly, "Settling in?"

"I want to go home," she snapped, "My family's probably going nuts trying to find me."

"Hmm," he smiled, "I would like to show you something."

"But-"

"This will only take a second."

He drew something out of a pouch around his waist. She recognized it as two small pictures - oh, what were they called... miniatures! Ariella glanced at them. One was of a fair-haired man with a golden beard, the other of a man clothed entirely in black, with a mask covering his face.

"Yeah, they're nice," she murmured quietly, "What of it?"

"You're here because of these two men," he informed her, "that's why I brought you here."

"But-"

"Listen closely. Do everything in your power to help him-" a pointed finger to the masked man "-and stay out of his way." A pointed finger at the blonde man. "He's the Alcalde; kind of like a police chief. Do not push your luck with him."

"Fine," Ariella hissed, "But when do I get to go home?"

She was denied her answer when the sound of thundering hooves drifted through the open door of the tavern.

"Go see. Go on," he urged her. Ariella stuffed the small cloth under the bar and darted out the door. She was trying really hard to keep from drawing even more attention to herself. It was hard when she was a red-head - apparently, red hair was non-existent out here, and it really made her stand out. A team of glossy, chestnut horses entered the pueblo, with a soldier in a white and blue uniform astride. At the head of the column,was a dark, snobbish looking man in dark blue and gold, with a red sash around his waist and a black Napoleonic hat with a red feather. He looked around, his large nostrils quivering as a man in military uniform - Sergeant Mendoza, Ariella remembered - stood in front of them, a big question mark practically hovering over his head.

"I am Colonel Mefisto Palomarez of the Royal Spanish Army," he announced. Ariella stifled a giggle at his pompousness as he looked over his shoulder to his own soldiers. "And they call  _this_  a soldier. Pitiful," he sneered, gesturing to the crestfallen Mendoza. "Where is your Commandant?"

"Uh, at his office," Mendoza offered politely, trying for a smile, "It's lunchtime-"

"Get him," Palomarez snapped.

"You just don't 'get' the Alcalde!" Mendoza said, his smile strained.

"Now."

With a shudder, Mendoza hurried over to the squat building to fetch the Alcalde, while Palomarez preened upon his horse. His void-like eyes scanned the pueblo and all its inhabitants, passing over Ariella briefly. She shuddered. His eyes were cold. What was it that Grandmere Catherine always said? Eyes were windows to the soul?

 _Well, if that's the case, then that sucker in uniform doesn't have a soul_.

"Ah, Colonel Palomarez," a blonde man proclaimed loudly (presumably the Alcalde), striding across the plaza as he gestured dramatically with his right hand, "This is indeed an honour!"

Smirking, Palomarez put an arm on the Alcalde's shoulder, walking with him slowly across the plaza. Ariella followed at a distance, trying to hear their conversation.

"..of Zorro has reached Madrid," Palomarez was saying, "I am here to eliminate him."

_Oh shit. Not good._

"Ah, begging your pardon, Colonel," the Alcalde said in an oily voice, that Ariella instantly recognised as an 'I'm sucking up' one. "Zorro is no ordinary bandit. People have taken him into their hearts, they thwart my every effort-"

" _Effort_?" Palomarez scoffed, "I am here for  _results_." Shooting the Alcalde a dirty look, the Colonel strode to the middle of the plaza. "The King of Spain orders the arrest and execution of the man known as Zorro."

"You'll never catch Zorro," one of the stall owners spat, folding his arms as he stood defiantly in front of Zorro.

"You are quite wrong about that," Palomarez sneered, gesturing with his hand to a soldier. Said soldier tapped the man on the shoulder, and as he turned, smashed his fist into his cheek, knocking the poor man to the ground where he lay, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

"By sunset, I want the name of every person living in this pueblo," the Colonel announced, his voice cool and calculative as he stared at the now (mostly) subdued Alcalde.

"Why? What for?" the Alcalde questioned sullenly.

"There will be a lottery at midnight to determine who will hang at sunrise in the place of Zorro."

"Colonel, you just can't go around executing people without good reason!" the Alcalde exclaimed.

"Perhaps I have not made myself clear." Each word that left Palomarez's lips hung in the air like wasps waiting to strike. "Henceforth, one of your citizens will die, every day-" his gaze skimmed over Ariella's face, framed with copper curls, and she shivered. "-until Zorro is delivered to me." Turning, he snapped ,"Clear the tavern," to his soldiers.

"Not a pleasant man, is he?" a voice murmured in her ear. Ariella glanced over her shoulder to see her 'friend' hovering just behind her.

"That's an understatement," she snorted quietly, flicking a curl behind her ear, "What stuck the stick up  _his_ behind?"

"Many things, but he'll get what's coming to him in due time," he replied, "In the meantime, you need to keep your guard up. He'll appear soon."

"Who?"

"Zorro, of course," he replied serenely, "He is the reason you're here, after all."


	4. Chapter 4

"Alright, now what am I supposed to do?" Ariella hissed at the hooded figure beside her, as she stood behind Victoria, "That git is going to be here any second."

"Patience, Señorita," he hushed, "I'll tell you soon enough."

Rolling hazel-brown eyes, Ariella crossed her arms and watched as Palomarez strutted into the tavern, fully aware that all eyes were on him - and loving the fact, apparently. She snorted softly.

_What a diva._

"Colonel, I beg you to reconsider," the Alcalde said through clenched teeth. Palomarez sneered at him, his nostrils flaring.

"Snivelling will not bring me Zorro," he replied coldly.

"But summary executions - not even  _I_  would conceive of such a thing."

"It is brilliant in its simplicity," the demented Colonel smirked, before his face fell back into its standard frown. "I am here to draw the name of the individual who will face the gallows at sunrise"

"This is not justice! This is murder!" Victoria exclaimed.

"Bring Zorro to me before dawn, and only he will face the hangman's noose," Palomarez continued, acting like he couldn't hear Victoria's noises of outrage beside him.

"Señor," a new voice muttered, in an almost sing-song fashion.

"Careful, Don Diego," Mendoza cautioned a tall man in an expensive-looking blue suit.

"You have particular knowledge of Zorro, Señor?" Palomarez questioned.

"Zorro is a difficult man to know," Don Diego replied after a moment, folding his arms, "We've always been protected by his secret identity. And it has kept us safe from the excesses of the military"

"It's true!" Victoria interjected, "We do not know who he is, or where he is; so, your threats of violence will not help you find him."

"I certainly think it's worth a try." Palomarez smirked, digging a hand into the clay bowl in front of him, "The first person to die under the curse of your Zorro is..." he unfolded the tiny slip of paper, and a broad grin spread itself across his face. "Sergeant Jaime Mendoza."

Poor Mendoza went as white as a sheet, swaying on the spot as the tavern erupted into relieved sighs and whispers.

"You can't be serious!" the Alcalde hissed, "Military personnel should not be included in this!"

"Oh, but they are Señor. Even  _your_  name is in the bowl," Palomarez said pleasantly, throwing the scrap of paper back among the rest as the Alcalde's face went slack.

"What?"

"Persist with your interference and yours will be the  _only_  name in the bowl," the Colonel continued pointedly, gesturing lazily to the quivering Mendoza as he turned and left, "Take him!"

Two of his personal guards forced Mendoza's hands behind his back as he struggled, his face pleading as he gazed at the Alcalde. The blonde looked shell-shocked.

"I'm sorry, Sergeant," was all he could manage as Mendoza was hauled out of the tavern, people pressing themselves away from him as though he had a terrible disease.

"Zorro should have shown himself by now," Victoria said quietly, looking lost and vaguely hurt.

"Don't worry. Zorro will help somehow," Don Diego replied vaguely, his brow furrowed.

"Unless he's learnt what we already know," the Alcalde muttered.

"What's that, Alcalde?" Don Diego asked.

"That Colonel Palomarez is a man with no mercy."

The caballero cast a glance across the tavern before returning his gaze to the Alcalde. Ariella felt a hand grasp her elbow and pull her towards the kitchen. Once behind the thick blanket, she turned to stare questioningly at her companion.

"Alright, so, what's with all the privacy?" she asked, folding her arms.

"Now, my dear," he muttered, tucking his arms into the billowing sleeves of his monk's robe, "Listen  _very_  carefully to what I'm about to tell you..."

* * *

 _If I could go back in time and kick my own ass_...Ariella swore under her breath as she sat shivering on the church roof - where she'd been for the last four hours, at  _his_  instance. Apparently, she was supposed to sit here and wait until Mendoza was standing at the gallows, and according to her 'friend' Miguel (who'd  _finally_ offered her a name), she'd receive further instructions.

 _So much fun_ , she thought wryly, rubbing her arms.  _I've always loved the waiting game._ The sun had begun to rise, and there was already a crowd gathering in the plaza - and no sign of any instructions that she was aware of.

"Oh for the love of..." she grumbled, scrambling to a crouching position before beginning to crawl to the rope she'd climbed up to get to this ridiculous place, "I give up."

Hand outstretched to grasp the first knot, she froze as the rope twitched and a large, black-gloved hand appeared in front of her...followed by a masked face. She gulped.

"Uhm...buenos dias?" she tried weakly, scooting back as Zorro stood in front of her, tall, dark, and  _very_  intimidating.

"Buenos Dias, Señorita," he replied pleasantly, though his eyes were narrowed slightly. "May I ask why you are on top of the church roof?"

Ariella could feel her face redden slightly.

 _Oh…I hate my cheeks,_  she thought irritably. A variety of things could make her turn as rosy as an apple: being too warm, drinking too much coffee, some of the medicines she took, or, in this case, being embarrassed. It had been one of her biggest aggravations since she had been twelve and gotten her first crush. Couple that with her flaming red hair, and it looked like someone had put a match to her.

"I'm waiting for someone, Señor. I was told to be here by dawn…it took me awhile to climb up in this," she rambled, gesturing at her ankle-length brown skirt. He said nothing for a brief moment, but his lips twitched slightly.

"Your name, Señorita?"

"Ariella."

"An honour, Señorita," he replied smoothly, holding out a hand. Ariella grasped it with her own and was pulled upright before he placed a small kiss on her knuckles. Her cheeks flamed again.

"Likewise, Señor," Ariella answered briskly, dropping her hand down by her side. "Now, since you're the only one up here, I'm assuming I've to help you in some way." Aside, she muttered, "And just why that annoying idiot couldn't tell me who is completely beyond me..."

"I accept no help, Señorita," Zorro said, folding his arms, "It guarantees no military retribution on those close to me."

Ariella could feel her temper starting to fray. Yes, he was being very noble and all, but she was supposed to help him; heck, she'd just spend the night outside in the cold, rather than curled up in bed like she'd wanted to. On top of that, she'd gone into the freaking past, with no clue how to get home, or when she'd be able to.

"Look; as, um, noble as that statement is, I was told that if I helped you, I could go home," she replied, her fists clenching, "I want to go home, therefore, I'll help you. And," she added, pointing a finger at him, "In case you think I'm an ice-queen, I also want to put that smug bastard Palomarez in his place. I like Mendoza, and he shouldn't have been arrested because that asshat ordered it."

Blinking slowly, a grin settled on Zorro's lips.

"Colourful language, for a Señorita," he commented. Ariella shrugged, her head tilting slightly and causing her flame-coloured curls to brush the top of her right shoulder.

"This is nothing. You should see me when I  _really_  get started."

"Very well. Since I can't convince you otherwise..." he pulled out a bow, and several prepared arrows from the satchel underneath the back of his cape. "How good of a shot are you?"

* * *

There was a small meeting in a secret chamber across the street from the church. Neither Ariella nor Zorro (or anyone else for that matter) knew about it. Miguel entered the room, still dressed as a priest. There were two or three others there as well. There was a petite young woman who wore an indigo-coloured hood with silver trim and there was a very large man who was decked out in full battle armour.

"What have you gotten this poor girl into? Can't you see that she's going to flounder? What were you thinking, bringing her into the past!" the woman snapped, her voice as hard as steel.

Miguel merely smiled.

"She wasn't happy where she was. The pendant went to her, just was as planned. Do you know how hard it was to get that thing to her? I kept an eye on it, making sure that it didn't get lost, broken, or otherwise defaced."

The armoured man placed his hand on Miguel's shoulder as bangs and shouts filtered through from the plaza.

"Listen…I know that you have good intentions with the girl. I can see that you chose very carefully, but that doesn't guarantee a match. Even if he does come to his senses, they'll have the whole outside world to deal with. A man and woman in love isn't of concern here, but a caballero and an outsider - that will start their tongues lashing."

"But they will have each other and they will have God," Miguel argued, "her faith is strong…I hear her prayers constantly, even if she tries to hide it. She is exactly what he needs. No more of these silly rules and limitations. The outside world will be the easy part."

Realizing that he wasn't going to get anywhere with Miguel at the moment, the armoured man merely shook his head and smiled.

"Well…pray tell then, what exactly do you intend to do? We have pieces that don't quite fit together."

"Well, fortunately for us, Palomarez's haste will be his downfall - within the hour, he'll have left Los Angeles."

"All right, then what?" the woman asked exasperatedly.

"Then, curious, Zorro will try to find out all he can about Los Angeles's newest addition. He'll begin trusting her, and she'll play her part to perfection."

"What can she do?"

Miguel grinned.

"Oh, a great deal, my friends. A great deal."

* * *

"I'm going down," Zorro muttered, tossing the rope over the ledge where Ariella sat, firing her arrows.

"Alright," she grunted, rubbing her cheek quickly, "I'll join you soon. And Zorro?" she grinned wickedly at his inquiring look. "Kick that Colonel's ass."

"Brigadiers, bring me the head of Zorro!" Palomarez bellowed below, as several horses galloped past the church, the Alcade on one of them.

"With pleasure, Señorita," he laughed, before disappearing down the rope. Notching the last arrow, Ariella took aim.

"Hold still, Sergeant. Hold  _very_  still," she muttered, a practiced eye sighting down the arrow's shaft, the string of the bow taut.

Biting her lip softly, her fingers went slack, and the string released with a twang, followed immediately by the thunk of an arrow, burying itself in the dirt beyond the gallows as Mendoza sank to his knees, a delighted smile on his face as the now severed rope hung uselessly around his neck. Ariella smirked with satisfaction, hiding the bow behind the low wall around the roof of the church. Climbing down the rope was slightly more tricky then climbing up - she had to be slow to avoid detection, despite Zorro currently causing a commotion. Let them think Zorro had fired the arrows. She didn't need to be associated with this little incident in the eyes of the pueblo. Eventually, her feet touched ground and she let go of the rope gladly. Sidling into the crowd, she slowly made her way towards Victoria and the now-freed Sergeant.

"Zorro will win," Victoria was saying confidently as she slipped behind them.

"Palomarez has never been beaten!" Mendoza interjected, looking shocked.

"Then it's about time someone did, isn't it?" Ariella said coolly.

"Ariella! Where have you been?" Victoria exclaimed.

"Around," she answered vaguely, laughing and clapping as Zorro pulled the lever on the gallows where he and Palomarez had been duelling, and the Colonel landed very ungracefully on his fat behind. Zorro winked, then pulled Palomarez from underneath the scaffold who seemed very dazed.

"As we agreed Colonel," Zorro said pointedly and clearly, "You must leave Los Angeles. Señor, may I borrow your mount?"

A middle-aged man was grinning as he pulled over a grey donkey. Palomarez shook his desperately, before Zorro landed a resounding blow on his cheek, the force knocking him out - and onto the donkey. Giving the poor animal a slap on the rump, the entire pueblo laughing and pointing, just as the Alcalde and Palomarez's troops arrived back.

Ariella would swear afterwards that she'd never laughed so much in her life at the looks on their faces.


	5. Chapter 5

As the days slipped by with a few minor incidents, Ariella was lounging in her room one hot siesta, wallowing in her home-sickness. She felt a little guilty about not helping Victoria close up for the afternoon, but she planned on helping this evening. She sighed, turned over on her bed - and nearly had a heart attack.

"Miguel! What are you doing here?" Ariella hissed.

"You didn't just expect me to leave you here on your own, did you?" Miguel responded.

"Well…since you're here, I got a couple of questions," she commented.

"Ask away," he said dismissively. She eye-balled him.

"Why are you dressed like a monk?"

"That's a secret. Next question."

"Why's your face always covered?"

"Also a secret. Next question."

Ariella groaned in exasperation. Deciding that she wasn't going to get a clue to his identity, she picked something easy.

"Is there any way I can get a decent book or something? I'm bored as hell up here."

"I brought you a few things to make your stay more comfortable," Miguel answered, handing her a cloth bag. Ariella stifled a giggle: the bag very closely resembled the small backpack she used to carry around in the future. Urgh. She was still trying to get used to that phrase.

"Thanks," she said gratefully.

"Now," Miguel said, voice dropping to a whisper, "be careful where you use some of those items…we don't want them falling into the wrong hands."

Ariella nodded, stashing the bag under her bed for the time being as Miguel played with a fat pouch in his hands.

"Now to the real reason I'm here," Miguel said, his lips almost touching her ear, "you gave Zorro a surprise with that tantrum on the church roof."

"I know," Ariella sighed, pushing a hand through her hair, "I just reacted. I didn't even think about it until after he'd gone." She eyed him. "And  _you_  were the one who told me to go up in the first place, smartass."

Miguel chuckled.

"I know, dear, and it's not the end of the world. He'll adjust…he's stronger than he thinks he is…but we must clear things up for this pueblo. The people are suspicious of you and we need to give them a reason to trust you."

She raised an eyebrow. The suspicion on her face couldn't be plainer.

"Miguel, why am I here? Seriously," she demanded, "I'm beginning to think I'm screwing around with stuff that I really shouldn't be messing with. So Zorro's fighting against a douche-bag, big deal. He's a big boy, he can handle it. I feel weird - like I'm messing with something I shouldn't be."

Ah…she was even smarter than he expected. This was a good sign. She had put those things together without so much as a hint.

"Don't worry about it," he told her, "stop thinking so far ahead. Besides, you're doing much better here than you were before: you don't have rent to pay, you have money, and you're getting much more attention from other people here."

"Maybe a little too much," Ariella admitted, "people are looking at me like I've got horns."

"I assure you that it's a good thing," Miguel answered, "the attention will serve you well later on. Now go to the church."

"Why?"

"Go."

Ariella crossed her arms, a glint in her eye.

"No."

"Must I drag you?" Miguel teased.

"I'll go, but you're coming with me," she snapped.

"You don't trust me," Miguel guessed.

"Hell no."

"Unfortunate, but you are still in one piece and everyone else will straighten up as well."

"How do I know that?"

"You don't."

She was getting tired of hearing that. Sighing, she slipped on her shoes and exited her room as quietly as she could, slipping out the back door of the tavern and crossing the empty pueblo to the church. As she pushed open the door, she noticed a couple in the sanctuary with a baby. Both of them looked really upset. They placed their baby in the foundling's box and started to leave. Before she could think, she had sprinted up the aisle and caught up with them. She wasn't aware that anyone was watching her.

"Hey, wait! You're not really going to leave the baby here, are you?"

The couple exchanged glances.

"We have no choice," the man said wearily, "we cannot care for her any longer."

"Is it money?" Ariella asked.

"Well…yes and no," he admitted, "our daughter has been ill for quite some time. We've tried several different doctors and they cannot help her. I had to sell almost everything to pay the fees. We have no money left and our daughter is going to die without intervention. We thought she would be much better off here."

"What's the matter with her?" Ariella asked.

"She can't hold her milk down." the woman spoke this time, her voice wobbling. "not more than a few minutes after she takes my breast, she vomits so violently that it leaves her weak and broken. She can't even cry any more."

Ariella thought that over. The hurt in the couple's faces tugged at her heartstrings.

"We've prayed for so long for a child…and now, God has seen fit to take the only one we have away," the woman choked out, tears forming in her eyes.

"Come along, Magdalena, we don't need to burden her with our troubles," the man sighed.

"I have an idea," Ariella blurted out, stepping in front of them. They looked at each other again. "How about you give her to me for a week?" she suggested. "Then come back and check on her after that? In the meantime, take this with you. You don't want your daughter coming home to nothing. You need to take care of yourselves if you're going to take care of her."

Ariella snatched the pouch of coins from Miguel and dropped it into the man's hand. His jaw dropped.

"Do you realize how many coins must be in here?" he asked, stunned.

"You need it more than I do," Ariella assured him, "I have all I need. Go buy back your land."

Both of them pounced on her and hugged her so fiercely that Ariella felt something crack.

"You're welcome," she choked out, "what's your baby's name?"

"We haven't named her yet," the man admitted, "we didn't think she'd survive long enough."

Ariella picked the baby up.

"Promise me," she said, "that you'll be back in a week."

"We swear on our own lives," the man told her. They rushed out of the church, leaving Ariella there with the baby.

"Why do I have the feeling that you had something to do with this?" Ariella asked Miguel wearily.

"Because you're right," he answered. She glanced down at the baby.

"Now what do I do? I've baby-sat before, but the worst I ever dealt with was the flu," she fretted, "I can't let them come back to a dead baby!"

"Think about the symptoms," Miguel urged her, "where have you seen them before?"

"My cousin used to projectile-vomit every time he got fed," she said after a few moments, "they said he was lactose intolerant…ooh, that's a tough one…what are we supposed to feed her? I doubt they've invented formula yet."

"Remember the romance novels you've read?"

Ariella blushed furiously.

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"There was one set in the fifteenth century about a woman who had healing abilities," he reminded, "what did she feed the baby of the princess?"

"Goat's milk," Ariella answered after a moment, "Nice one, monk-y boy. But where am I going to get it?"

"I suppose the tavern would be a good place to start," he answered.

"Where are you going? You can't leave me now," Ariella pleaded when Miguel started to walk away.

"I'll be back," he promised, "but this matter is in your hands now. I can help you, but I can't do it for you."

Ariella stared at his retreating back. The infant in her arms began to fuss. She looked down at her.

"You're not going to die, are you? You're very stubborn, just like me," she cooed, though doubts flickered through her head. She bowed her head and prayed for a moment before hurrying back to the tavern.

* * *

The lunch Don Diego insisted on treating him to was delicious, and Mendoza made a point to tell him so. The don smiled good-naturedly.

"In that case Sergeant, why don't you order a bottle of wine for yourself?" he said kindly. Mendoza beamed.

"Really? Oh,  _muchas gracias_  Don Diego!" the sergeant enthused as he waved a hand at Victoria. "Señorita Esca-"

"I'm busy, Sergeant," Victoria said absent-mindedly, as her eyes ran through columns upon columns of numbers, "Just go into the kitchen; Ariella will fetch it for you."

"Si, Señorita!" Mendoza replied, pushing his stool back and making his way towards the kitchen. What he saw when he pulled the curtain open knocked the stuffing right out of him. A baby was asleep in a basket packed with blankets. The new barrmaid sat nearby, polishing some glasses and crooning a soft melody as she worked.

"Is that a baby?!" Mendoza demanded, stepping through.

"Shhh!" she hissed, "the baby's asleep!"

Now he was just confused.

"I can see that," he whispered back, "but why is she  _here_?"

"She's sick and I'm caring for her," Ariella replied calmly, picking up another glass to polish, "Her parents couldn't afford a doctor, thanks to your Alcalde."

Mendoza shifted uncomfortably, a sheepish look on his face as Diego pushed the curtain aside and entered the kitchen.

"Is there a problem, Sergeant?" he asked pleasantly, blue eyes swivelling to land on the fiery-haired girl and the basket beside her. "Is that-"

"Yes it's a baby, no she's not mine, no I didn't kidnap her; is there anything you wanted Señor?" Ariella reeled off in a very bored voice. Diego blinked.

"Sergeant, would you give us a moment?" he asked quietly, his gaze never leaving the young barmaid as Mendoza ambled from the room. Ariella studiously ignored him, continuing to polish the glasses as the baby slept quietly in her basket. However, Ariella never was very patient.

"Would you like something, Señor?" she asked, putting the glass and training her eyes on the Don.

"Do you realize Señorita Escalante would be held responsible if anything happened to her?" Diego commented calmly.

"Oh don't get your pants in a twist," Ariella said dismissively, her gaze already back on the baby as Diego's face went blank in shock, "Vic - Señorita Escalante is fully aware of what's happening. Besides, that baby will probably be in better shape now than she was before. I've fed her twice already and she didn't get sick either time. She's lactose intolerant and I told her parents to leave her with me for a week. They were going to lose everything _,_ including her - I had to do _something._ "

"What did you do?" Diego asked curiously.

"I fed her goat's milk, that's all," Ariella answered, "it's the only thing she can digest right now. She'll be better off once she starts on solid food, but she has to stay away from cows' milk and maybe butter and cheese, I don't know. Time will tell if she can eat those or not."

He studied her carefully. He could always tell when someone wasn't being entirely honest. Unless she was just a  _very_  good liar, she appeared to be truthful.

"How did you know?"

"My cousin had the same exact problem when he was a baby. I had a guess, but there was no guarantees. Almost anything can upset a baby's belly." The baby whimpered in her basket, and Ariella leaned over to coo at her soothingly before she settled. The red-head sat back down, her eyes meeting the Don's. "If you think I've done the wrong thing, report me to the Alcalde."

Arranging his features into his usual mask, he turned his gaze back on her.

"I won't report you, never fear. The Alcalde isn't exactly kind to those in his jail."

"Or out of them," Ariella commented, drawing a smile from Diego.

"Indeed."

"In any case, was there something Sergeant Mendoza was looking for?" she asked.

"Ah, just a bottle of wine, Señorita," Diego said, plucking a bottle from the shelf with ease. "I'm sure this one will do him."

"Of course, Señor," she replied good-naturedly. "Please call if you require anything else - I'll be more attentive next time."

"And your name, Señorita?" Diego asked. She smiled, a small dimple creasing her cheek.

"Ariella Hamilton."


	6. Chapter 6

"So where do you hail from, Señorita Hamilton?" Diego asked idly as they lounged beside the plaza fountain the next day, the baby tucked safely into Ariella's arms. The red-head grinned at him.

"England," she answered, "And it's just Ariella, Don Diego. You'll save more oxygen that way."

"Then you must call me Diego," he replied easily with a smile of his own, a lock of hair flopping over his forehead. "I insist."

"Fine, but if I get hauled off to jail for breaking some social rule, you're so busting me out," she warned, shaking her pointer finger at him. Diego held up his right hand solemnly.

"I swear, if you are arrested, I will...bring you some food," he said instead, grinning. Ariella laughed again.

"Eh, close enough." The baby started fussing, and for a moment, their attention was diverted as they both attempted to placate the child, but to no avail. Ariella brought the baby close to her face and sniffed, her nose wrinkling.

"Oh lordy," she said, coughing slightly as she stood. "She needs to be changed - and probably have some food, come to think of it," she explained as Diego glanced at her inquiringly. "I'll see you around."

Diego raised his hand in farewell, his ears pricking as he heard the Alcalde muttering something to Sergeant Mendoza. It was time for Zorro to come out to play.

* * *

"She's doing well, I give you that, but she won't last," the cloaked woman said stubbornly, her garment the colour of emeralds with a white trim. Miguel laughed as he lounged in his chair, the chatter of the tavern patrons concealing their conversation quite easily.

"She's made of stronger stuff then you think," he drawled, running a finger around the rim of his cup. The armoured man also wore a cloak this time, a simple brown affair to cover his armour.

"Alright, say that she does last," he said slowly, taking a sip of his drink. "How are you going to let her fit in here? She was seen with the baby and Don Diego several times, and tongues are wagging. Everyone is thinking that she's a fallen woman."

"But they will learn the truth soon."

"Then what will you do?"

"Well…fortunately for us, Zorro will be injured when he goes to foil the Alcalde's little scheme tonight and Toronado will go to investigate a particularly delicious manger of hay."

"Oh will you just get to the point?"

The woman sounded exasperated.

"Then, injured, Zorro can't leave the pueblo. Ariella will step in at that point."

"What can she do?"

Miguel grinned.

"Much more than you think she can."

* * *

Ariella sighed as she sank onto her bed. She was exhausted after running around the tavern for the evening, and just wanted to sleep. However, the universe seemed to disagree with this plan.

"Going to sleep, are we?" an amused, annoyingly familiar voice questioned. She groaned.

"Nope, I'm planning world domination by using a horse and some tamales," she quipped, slowly opening her eyes and sitting up. "What do you want?"

Miguel looked curious. "Why would I want anything from you?"

"Because any time I see you, you usually tend to do something that's going to piss me off," Ariella snapped. "For once, will you just let me sleep? I don't want to look like the walking dead in the morning, if you don't mind."

"I realise that," Miguel said serenely. The bastard. "But you shouldn't go to sleep just yet."

A slender brow rose in response.

"Oh  _really?_ " she drawled, folding her arms. "And why shouldn't I?"

A shout and what was unmistakably a gunshot sounded out in the pueblo. Ariella jumped, then eyed the monk opposite.

"How come I get the feeling that you're behind this too?" she muttered, pushing herself off of the bed. "I suppose I'd-"

"You can't leave the room," he warned as she stilled, "there are too many things that could go wrong if you do."

"But-"

"I know you want to help, but you'll have to let some things run their course," he said gently, "Zorro and the pueblo will have to start relying on each other. Zorro must realize that he can and will be injured if he doesn't let others help him. You are his go-to place right now. He's starting to trust you, but it's not enough yet."

Ariella nodded, sitting down on the bed again.

"I just thought of something…before I came here to 'fix' whatever problems that came up...what happened? I mean, Zorro seems like he can handle anything."

"That, my dear, was a part of the problem. We'll talk when things settle down," Miguel said, "While you wait, you have a baby that needs tending."

"What about the gunshots?"

"You'll hear something about that soon enough."

"If you say so."

"Get your bag out. You'll need it soon to patch wounds."

"But I'm not a nurse!" Ariella objected, horrified.

"It's simple. All you have to do is get the bleeding to stop and bandage it up. You can handle that, can't you?"

"I bloody hope so."

Being the 'graceful ballerina' that she was, Ariella had been forced to patch herself up numerous times. She had scars on her arms and legs from various accidents during childhood. Her grandmother had also worked as a nurse, so fortunately, Ariella had lost her squeamishness of blood early in life. It was almost comical that she wasn't bothered by blood but other things that came out of a body made her run for a bathroom.

"Just relax and mind the baby. It will calm down soon."

Ariella sighed, crossing her legs.

"When are you coming back?" she asked, not really expecting a proper answer.

"Soon," he answered vaguely, disappearing through the door.

Ariella groaned and flopped backwards on the covers. Miguel was the most uptight bastard she'd ever met…and he seemed to know an awful lot. Too much, in fact. She had this distinct impression that she was being used, but she didn't have enough evidence to prove it, just a gut feeling. The more that time went on, the more she suspected.

Experimentally, she pulled the amulet up over her head. All around her, she could hear the rich sounds of Spanish, but she didn't understand a word of it. When she put the amulet on again, she understood them again. Feeling thoroughly confused, she went to comfort the now wailing baby. She didn't want some more milk and she wasn't wet, so she lay the baby against her shoulder and rubbed her back. A belch and a trickle of spit later, she cooed contentedly. It had just been a simple gas bubble.

"Well, you're clearly getting stronger," she commented, rocking her, "you wouldn't scream like that if you were still sick. I know you miss your mum. She'll be back soon, I promise. And you'll be healthy and she and you and your dad will all be happy."

It seemed simple enough. She wished things in her own family had gone so smoothly. Her thoughts drifted to her own mother, whom she hadn't thought about for a long time.

"Urgh, enough of that," she muttered, putting the baby back in her bassinet. She was just about to go and lay down on her very soft bed when the door flew open.

"Oh! I was hoping you'd be awake! You must help! Zorro is dying!" Victoria panted, lugging a semi-limp Zorro into the tiny room, followed by a man that she vaguely recognised as the pueblo's doctor. Ariella just registered what was happening before her first-aid training kicked in.

"Put him on the bed and then go get a glass of wine - you need to calm down," she instructed. "Maybe one for him as well."

They put the masked man laying on his side since the wound was in his back. Ariella didn't wait on anyone. She pushed Victoria from the room, returned to her patient and yanked his shirt back, exposing the  _very_  fine chest and stomach muscles beneath. Her fingers twitched.

_Not the time to get your hormones activated Hamilton!_

Zorro had clearly lost enough blood that he was drifting in and out of consciousness. The only thing she got out of him was a moan of pain when she pressed a dry cloth firmly to his wound.

"Hold this," Ariella snapped. Hernandez's hand closed over the cloth while she began to rifle through her bag. Miguel had said that she would find everything she needed in here.

"Well…Got the whole Mary-Poppins thing going on here," she commented, producing a first-aid kit. Hernandez looked at her with a puzzled expression. She shook her head at him. "Never mind."

Victoria bolted into the room. She was breathing raggedly - all the wine had done was get her wired apparently.

"Ariella! I must stay with him!" she demanded, two bright spots of red on her cheeks.

The red-head looked up from the box she was examining and exchanged a look with the doctor.

"Um…" she said slowly, "Okay. You can hold his hand if you want, but stay up by his head. You'll get in the way otherwise."

The tavern owner did as she was told.

"Here we go," Ariella said, producing a small packet of antiseptic wipes and some gauze pads. "Wipe your hands with this, doc. Kills any germs."

"What happened to him?" Victoria demanded as both medics scrubbed at their hands

"Well…from my understanding, somebody was playing the hero and someone else…" She made a firing motion. Zorro gave her a Look. If looks could kill, she'd have died right there. "Oh calm down. He was lucky; shit happens from time to time - pardon my French," she said askance at their shocked expressions. "I really need to watch my mouth."

"You are not a normal girl," Victoria murmured, hanging onto Zorro's hand like a lifeline.

"I concur," Zorro rumbled, causing Victoria to squeal with joy that he was concious.

"Keep that up and I'll cheerfully suffocate you," Ariella hummed. "Let's see if the bleeding stopped… oh ew. Well, it doesn't look too awful. You'll be pretty sore for a few days, but you'll be fine, I think. I don't think any important stuff got hit even though I'm not exactly a surgeon. What do you think, doc?"

"There's no bullet hole, so I'd say that the bullet merely grazed him. He's been very lucky. Now, how do you apply these bandages?"

Between the two of them, they cleaned up the wound as best as they could. Ariella was grateful that whoever shot at her patient was clearly a shit aimer. Then, Hernandez lay the gauze pad against the wound as she secured it with paper tape. Smoothing down Zorro's shirt, she glanced up at him.

"You, mister, need to keep yourself in bed and out of trouble for a few days." She pressed her hands together. "I think that's everything."

"I know you must be very busy," Hernandez said, glancing at the sleeping baby, "but I must know…how is the child? Her parents were quite distraught when I could do nothing for her."

"She's doing very well. Her parents are picking her up tomorrow," Ariella said, gathering the dirty wipes and gauze, "She'll have to live on goat's milk until she's ready to eat solid food."

"Intolerance to dairy...who would've thought? You must be an angel sent from God!" the doctor said with a touch of humour. Maybe it had been the stress, maybe it was because she was exhausted beyond her limits, but whatever it was, Ariella burst out laughing.

"Oh no," she said giggling, "I swear too much. And last time I tried to fly, I fell out of a tree."

"Well, whatever you are, I am grateful," the doctor shrugged, "I hope we will meet again soon."

He bowed and slipped downstairs, followed by Victoria who was murmuring about getting his horse ready. Ariella opened the window to her room. The icy night air was a welcome reprieve from the baking hot room. She breathed it in deeply.

"Why?"

Her patient's voice interrupted the relaxed silence. She turned to face him.

"Why what?" she asked.

"Why-" he coughed

"Pick something I can work with," she said tiredly, going over and helping him to sit up and take a drink.

"Why did you help me?" Zorro asked when he finished. Ariella glanced at him, her eyes dark.

"Is that a trick question?"

Judging by his expression, it wasn't.

"Hum…well, I see how you are with the people. You're a nice guy, but you're like a rock. It's good in the sense that you can stay calm when everybody else panics, but it's going to kill you, too. You're really distant to everyone in the pueblo…it's like you're too scared to rely on them. You don't let anybody in." She realized she'd probably said too much and abruptly stopped talking. "Sorry," she said quickly, "don't listen to me. I studied psychology for a bit and I act like I know everything."

Zorro wasn't sure what that meant, but it didn't matter anyway. He glanced down at her pale hand, turned silver by the moonlight. It contrasted starkly against the black clothes he wore.

"You're right," he mumbled, "I've been pushing them away…"

Ariella left him to his thoughts as she disappeared downstairs to tell Victoria she would keep an eye on Zorro until he was a little more rested. The tavern owner seemed relieved that her love interest would be fine and Ariella returned to her room, which now seemed icy to her cool skin.

"Take my cloak," Zorro said suddenly. She'd thought he was asleep.

"I'm fine," she said through clenched teeth.

"Take it," he said firmly.

"I don't want to."

She took it anyway. She could have sworn he smiled. Huddled in the black material that was still warm from him, she felt her optimism returning.

_Okay Hamilton, you're not a teenager any more. Don't get your hopes up like last time._

Taking the lone chair in the room and bringing it up beside the bed, she curled up in it, wrapped in her borrowed cloak, her eyes watching her patient.

_My God does he smell good…_ was her last thought before she fell asleep.


End file.
